


Isolation: Day 101

by Boffin1710, Dassandre



Series: Spring in London 2020 [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre
Summary: Q had been sequestered in his home office for most of the morning and afternoon.  Hadn’t even responded when Alec told him through the closed door that he was popping for a few essentials as planned and would be back soon.  Alec had returned over an hour ago and this was the first he’d seen of Q since he’d crawled from their bed at 6 a.m.
Relationships: James Bond/Q, James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan, Q/Alec Trevelyan
Series: Spring in London 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677781
Comments: 5
Kudos: 84





	Isolation: Day 101

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).



> A continuation of our quarantine series. Please let us know what you think. 2020 has been a challenge for all of us.

“There are days I hate you.”

Alec turned the page of his book and continued reading, looking for all the world like he hadn’t heard Q’s comment. He had though. Heard it. But he continued to read because he needed a moment or two to decide what to actually  _ do  _ with the statement. It hadn’t been an airy ‘I hate you’ like when Q was working far too much and losing track of time and Alec brought him a sandwich so he wouldn’t waste away. Nor was it the lusty, needy ‘I hate you’ when Alec teased Q, bringing him to the edge again and again and never quite allowing him to come until he was begging so prettily.

No. This ‘I hate you’ was different. It was low and angry. Filled with sadness and pain and frustration that had been building for weeks. Alec had been expecting it for a few days now because the tension in the flat had grown exponentially along with Q’s … despair was really the only word for it, Alec supposed.

This ‘I hate you’ Q  _ meant _ . Or thought he did. At least at this moment. 

The Quartermaster wanted a fight.

Alec had to decide whether or not to give it to him.

He closed his book and set it at his side. Q looked exhausted. Pale. Frazzled in a way he’d never appeared before. His hair was a bloody mess. He hadn’t had a haircut in months, but it still managed to stick up and out in ways that defied gravity. His jaw was tight. His eyes caught somewhere between manic and patently sad. 

Q had been sequestered in his home office for most of the morning and afternoon. Hadn’t even responded when Alec told him through the closed door that he was popping for a few essentials as planned and would be back soon. Alec had returned over an hour ago and this was the first he’d seen of Q since he’d crawled from their bed at 6 a.m. 

“I said, there are days I  _ fucking hate you _ !” Louder this time. An added curse. Not yet a shout but not far from it. 

James has been sent out on a mission over a week ago which had only made matters worse. It was a mission... an assignment... but all Q could see was that James was  _ outside _ . Not in the flat. An opportunity to escape into the outer world. 

And... he was still a “prisoner” inside his own flat, which by now he had memorized every millimeter of multiple times over. Logical statements as in: you're high risk, MI6 can’t afford for you to get ill, it's for you’re own... blah, blah, blah. They did nothing but push him further into his moody, maudlin temperament. 

James could go outside. 

Alec could go outside.

Q, however... no outside for Q. 

Which brought on another, “I so buggering fucking hate you!” outburst, as he turned his back on Alec flinging the refrigerator door open. 

“Q, let me fix you something...” Alec started. Thinking food might calm the mood, he reached out, snagging Q by the elbow as he was halfway inside the refrigerator door. 

Startled and riding on elevated stress urges, Q spun around, fist connecting with Alec’s jaw as another “hate you” spilled out. 

What was a good agent supposed to do, a well-trained senior Double-O, for that matter? Instinct kicked in, knee jerk reaction. And before he could react and pull it back, Alec had punched the Quartermaster back. Square in the face. Sending him directly to the kitchen floor. 

Specs shattered on the ground next to him, Q looked up at Alec in dazed shock, but only for a moment. Not even bothering to wipe away the blood that spilled from both nostrils, he spun on his hip and kicked out, sweeping Alec’s legs out from under him. Alec slammed into the open refrigerator. Grasping about to break his fall, Alec only succeeded in bringing down the shelves within crashing down about him as he landed hard on his bad shoulder, but before he could even curse in pain and fury, Q was on him.

Q kicked and fought like a man possessed. Anger and frustration from 101 days of endless confinement had turned to rage. Rage at his condition that forced his imprisonment. Rage at not being up to his eyeballs in the critical missions that R and a handful of minions still ran from inside Q-Branch. Rage at the fucking terrorists and black hatters who were doing all they could to exploit the pandemic for their own purposes. 

Rage at James who still hadn’t checked in after 42 hours.

Rage at Alec who thought that fucking food would solve something.

Rage at himself who really wanted that fucking food to solve something.  _ Anything _ !

Alec let him flail, forearms in front of him defecting most of the Quartermaster’s blows. But, it put him in a position where all he could see was the Quartermaster’s bloodied face. His nose so needed attention. How was he going to explain this one to Medical? 

Q’s anger raged, cursed, hated him and James, physically venting himself on the only victim available. And, Alec let him purge the explosive mental state that had been building for days. 

Containment had been breached and Q vented like a nuclear reactor meltdown.

Until the reactor burnt itself out. 

And then... the tears began to flow, quickly turning into sobs.

Alec wrapped his arms tightly about Q, hooked a leg around his, and rolled with him to their sides, holding him there amidst the shattered jam jars, dripping milk, and scattered takeaway containers. He said nothing. Didn’t even make soothing sounds. Simply carded one hand through Q’s hair whilst the other rubbed the small of his back as Q sobbed out his anger, his sorrow, his helplessness, and his blood all over Alec’s shirt.

It took some time, but eventually, sobs turned to shudders, then to hiccups, and finally to silence. And when Q’s breath was heavy but even against Alec’s neck, Alec tipped Q’s chin up with a fingertip, urging him to meet his eyes. Green rimmed with red. Sad but no longer desperate. Not quite as lost as before.

“I’m sor--”

Alec’s finger on his lips silenced the apology. “What do you have to be sorry for? Nothing.” Alec’s voice was rough even to his own ears. As though he’d not used it in weeks instead of minutes. “It’s a shite situation. Not fair to you. Not any of it. We’re the ones who are selfish, I guess because we don’t want to lose you. Can’t lose you.” Alec pulled Q even closer. “ _ Can’t _ lose you,” he said again into Q’s curls.

“I don’t want to die.” Q’s confession was the first he’d ever directly said about the reality of what could happen to him if he did venture forth from the sterile, secure, relative safety of the flat. “I really don’t, but I can’t--

“Can’t keep on like this, either.” Alec nodded and pulled back a tad. “We need to find you more options. The garden’s a bit of a mess. It’s small but maybe --”

“Plant some herbs and flowers? Get someplace to sit out there? A table, too? Maybe I can work outside some? Not always be trapped in my office.”

For the first time in days, Alec saw something bright pass through Q’s expression. Hopeful. 

“We’ll go online later and see what we can order for you. First, though, gotta call Medical. Have the doc or one of the nurses come over and take a look at your face. Once the adrenaline wears off …”

“I think it already is.” Q blinked and wiggled up a hand from between them to gently touch his nose. He sucked in a breath of pain. “Christ, you have iron in your fists.”

“I’m sor--”

Q silenced the apology with a serious but cautious kiss. “I still hate you,” he said against Alec’s mouth.

“I know you do.” 

They helped each other up with a series of protracted groans and grumbles and surveyed the disaster they had made of the kitchen. Ugh. 

“I’m never giving you street fighting or self-defense lessons again,” Alec muttered, gesturing lamely at the destruction. “Not if this is the result. Hey? Where are you going?” Q was stepping gingerly through the mess toward the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to help me with this?”

“Broken face trumps broken fridge. Bring me that bag of frozen peas next to your feet and call Medical. Then you can clean up the mess. I’ll be on the sofa nursing my face and buying a new fridge and things for the garden.” 

“I so hate you,” Alec called after him.

“I know you do!” 


End file.
